Musica Mnemonica

photoI Keyboard Position

(For HH & JDH)

I went to hear a singer sing his due

Recital and to learn to love his voice,

Yet on the instant knew I had no choice

But watch th’ accompanist and think of you,

For when they came onstage a dream began

As German art-songs sung up from a deep

Chasm of voice that ought to haunt my sleep,

My heart was drawn instead to that tall man

Curled over the piano in that soft,

Sprung posture that in you I used to know,

When you assumed it, meant that you would go

Anon, and play your listeners aloft

To dazzling heights of ecstasy and free-

Fall back with us to depths of bronze despair

Because your fluid playing pulled us there,

And art, remembered now, that let me see

That this man taught those notes to you, each one,

And from his posture, know you were his son.photo collage

II Nocturne

(For JDH)

You always play the Evensong or toll

The close of Compline on that rank of keys

That lets the darkness in at night and sees

No morning come again where dawn should roll

Its banner out, because your day is past,

Untimely so, and others left behind

Whose love for you through music was refined,

And evening services to hold us fast

Within your arms; now elders play the songs

As you’d have done if time had let you play

A lifetime–even just another day–

With melody to right the thousand wrongs

That took you from our midst, that stopped the tune,

Left only other hands to tend the notes,

And threw you like a star among the motes

Before you could play in another June.

Now summers come no more, nor daylight’s dawn,

Though through the night your music lingers on.photo

32 thoughts on “Musica Mnemonica

  1. I will come back and read your second poem later today because this first one is so beautiful that i do not want to lose its taste! Such evocative words.. c

    • Yes, I shall try to tell more of the tale. It might require another post to do so . . . let me think about how to share enough to illuminate and still, hopefully, not *too* much.

  2. The first poem really struck me. In our family art seems to pass from generation to generation. Sonja, our oldest daughter, likes to tell our grandchildren that they’ve got the art gene. But what a beautiful gift it is as you look at echoes and hear or see the beauty rising from those echoes. A wonderful thought behind a poem I really liked. The photo is great too. The second poem is just beautiful and describes perfectly how the art experience can affect us when it is powerful.

    • Thank you so very much. I am fortunate indeed that my work held some meaning for you. I do believe that artistry can be passed down from one to another–both in families and through those connexions between mentor and student, between friends.

    • Thank you, Sawsan; your response to that line is just perfect for me, because in fact that was precisely my response to the moment of having the recognition about which I wrote the poem! (If that makes any sense.) πŸ™‚

  3. What a treat for a Sunday morning! Love the imagery and “back story” of I Keyboard Position but I’ll come back to read and reread II Nocturne. Beautifully done, Kathryn.

    • After all, each generation of us is called upon to ‘take up the torch’ and then pass it. I wish in the case of my subject he had had a much lengthier custody of the flame, as it burned so very brightly in his hands, but all the more reason we must share it and grow it in our successors, no?

    • Well if you study photography even a tiny bit seriously I’ll be running to *you* for advice, since I have zero technical knowledge and just an experienced eye and a design background. πŸ˜‰ Thanks for being willing to share the journey with me!

  4. Now, I am a fan of yours.. Your poem is so great and the rhythm is so fantastic… You have a lovely photo’s of the cities at night too… Wonderfu….

    • Thank you, Nors, you are so sweet. πŸ™‚ I’m so happy you are enjoying it. The cities, by the way, are a couple of wonderful ones I love, San Francisco (California) and Seattle (Washington).

  5. These are a symphony in and of themselves, Kathryn. The first poem is simply stunning; it brings me a wistful feeling.
    AND. I L.O.V.E. the city collage. Love. It. I think I want it to be one that I put together – that is what I think!

    • Okey dokey, darling. Why, you must’ve done it, then! (Sorry for my thievery.) Seattle and San Francisco. How can anyone not be inspired by them, eh?

      I’m so glad you found something to move you in the poetry, too. πŸ™‚

  6. I, too, wanted to stop after the first poem.. it left me teary-eyed and so moved by “my heart was drawn instead…” I wonder if HH is JDH’s son? (just to clarify) how wonderful that two people could bring such a gift into our world… it always seems to end too soon, doesn’t it?

    • What a sweet thing to say! It’s funny, but writing poetry and sharing it has returned me to having an interest in reading it too, and being among bloggers who write and share poetry (theirs and others’) is a great treat!

  7. Lovely poems which make me ask so many question about the subjects. It seems that his accompanying the singer you were there to see, was a surprise or shock? I have an entire story in my head regarding these individuals and your feelings as you sat there.

    • Backstory forthcoming, my dear. (How’s that for a seeming contradiction in terms!) πŸ™‚ But I love that you’ve already got a story of your own . . . you know that fiction is often more potent than fact, anyway!

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